


Triple Word Score

by hikari_datenshi (Salamander)



Category: British Comedian RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/hikari_datenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a small victory, although what the hell they were meant to be playing, he did not know. It wasn't Scrabble anyway, not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triple Word Score

**Author's Note:**

> I am painfully aware that the order of words in the fic is sort of impossible to do in Scrabble (this is because I may or may not have tried it out on a scrap of paper), but let us pretend that this is perfectly normal. Also, writing sex scenes for two awkward people is awkward. Who knew?

"Goo." David sat back on his haunches and looked proud. His tiles were only slightly wonky, and that was something, right? Although they really should only be slightly wonky, considering that they'd only drunk a can and a half each so far.

"Goo?" Charlie picked up the lid of the Scrabble box and peered at the instructions on the underside. "Are three letter words allowed?"

"Of course they are. _Two_ letter words are allowed, why wouldn't three?" He tugged the bottom half of the box closer, and delicately selected three new tiles. He was careful not to accidentally reveal them, as he placed them in their tray. "And anyway, you should know the rules, it is your game."

"Well, I don't know. Scrabble players are known for being pedantic bastards. Ogle. And just because it's my game, doesn't mean I know the rules perfectly. I don't stay up all night studying them."

David stared at his letters as Charlie picked himself another three tiles. Why did he always end up with all the bloody hard ones? "Um," he said, and took a drink of beer.

"Stop prevaricating, Mitchell."

"What, there's no time limit on Scrabble. Anyway," he picked three tiles and laid them down around the remaining 'o'. "Knob."

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at the board. "Nice to see we're staying well in the short word bounds."

"No point in taking risks." _Oh shit. What did you go and say that for? Shit shit fucking shit._ "Scrabble is serious business. I wouldn't want to be caught with a spelling mistake." _Okay, that might have been a close save._

Charlie continued evaluating his tiles. David was sure he saw a flicker of _something_, but he was never very good at reading people, and Charlie made things up for a living and he could quite easily have been imagining it.

"Bugger," Charlie said.

"Haven't you got anything?"

"No, that's my word. Bugger. Coming off the 'b'."

Oh. He took a drink instead of saying something right away, and then realised that his can was empty. Fuck. "Er. Beer? Empty."

Charlie looked right at him, and said, slowly, "yes please."

"Okay. Right. Beer." David took his can into the kitchen, dropped it into the bin and opened the fridge door. _Get the beers_, he thought, desperately. _There's probably nothing in it anyway. Two words do not mean he's hitting on you. Stop imagining kissing him. Beers._ He stuck his head in the fridge, with the vaguely hazy idea that it'd be kind of like a cold shower. It wasn't. He sighed, and picked two cans off the shelf that was precariously close to his nose.

"Beers!" he announced as he went back into the living room, holding one out. He tried not to read into the fact that Charlie's fingers brushed his as he took the can. "And screw," he sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and laying out the tiles around the 'r'. _Risks_, he thought, as he opened his beer and took a drink. He noted that Charlie's eyebrow seemed to raise, almost imperceptibly, but the motion was definitely there. David smiled. It was a small victory, although what the hell they were meant to be playing, he did not know. It wasn't Scrabble anyway, not really. It was some sort of... Nether Scrabble that they probably played in seedy underground sex dens. There was probably writhing. And moaning. He imagined Charlie moaning, and blushed.

"Wank," he looked right at David over the top of his beer, a sort of half-smile on his face.

Okay no, there was definitely _something_. Probably the alcohol. Which was almost certainly the deciding factor in his next, rather bold, move. "Fuck," he said, quietly, laying down the letters. His grip on the can tightened, and he was just about to curse the beer to eternity and back when Charlie reached for his tiles, and slowly spelled out 'dick'. Oh.

Charlie was doing that eye contact thing again, and David realised that he was unconsciously licking his lips. His eyes flickered to Charlie's mouth and back to his eyes again, and he put down 'lick'.

"Not as good as dick, but not bad," Charlie said. His voice was deliciously low, and it sent a strange quiver up David's spine.

"It rhymes," he pointed out, and then closed his eyes at the stupidity of the remark. "Are you, um, keeping score?"

"I was," Charlie said, "But then I got. You know. Distracted." He waved a hand around vaguely, and David followed the motion with his eyes, aware that he probably looked like a twat, but somewhat unable to stop. "By this."

"Nether Scrabble," David said, still feeling like a twat.

"Mm, good word." Charlie stared at his letters as if he'd just seen the light at the end of the tunnel. David wondered if they spelled 'fuck off Mitchell, I'm not gay.'

He picked the tiles up, one by one, a look of complete and utter triumph on his face. He put down a 'b,' next to the 'l' from 'lick' and David wondered vaguely if someone had been adding in more of the same letters. When he placed an 'o' David began to suspect that this had been a fix all along, and then the rest of the letters went down in a rush, as if he was trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Blowjob," David said, almost choking on the word.

"Yeah, well there's no question marks in Scrabble, is there?" Charlie's voice was husky, and he licked his lips.

"_Oh_." And it was all very well and good that the something was out in the open now, but in all honesty, it didn't make the situation any easier. If anything, it made it seventy times worse, because now David was on the spot. He hated being on the spot. If he was in a bar now, he'd have blushed, made an awkward comment and then escaped as quickly as he could. But here, there was no escape. He supposed he could go get another beer, but that would look suspicious, and there were only so many hiding places in the kitchen, and considering that it was his own flat, he couldn't exactly just leave, either.

"I can almost see your brain going through the pros and cons of legging it," Charlie said, taking a swig of his beer.

"No, not legging it exactly. More considering the merits of hiding in the fridge."

"How's that working out?"

"More cons than pros at the moment. It's a bit chilly in there, and you know. Shelves. Whoever designed fridges really should take a second look." _Yes okay, banter was good, banter you can do. Maybe he'll forget..._

"I don't think it'd be very comfortable either, you could add that to your list." Charlie picked up the scrabble lid again and consulted the rules. "Blowjob," he said. "Twenty one points. And oh look," he slid the 'w' out of the way triumphantly, "triple-word score. Sixty three to me," he grabbed the pen and scribbled '63' at the bottom of his list. "Huh, I was losing up until then. You got, um, forty six, but I'm afraid I'm the clear winner."

David took the sheet of paper as Charlie offered it. "Ninety eight," he said. "Um."

"King of Nether Scrabble, I am." Charlie sat back, leaning on one hand, that look in his eye again.

"Well, I don't know that you can be king of a game we've only just made up," David said, pointedly trying not to watch Charlie's throat as he swallowed his beer, but failing in the most basic way possible. "And anyway, I'm sure you cheated. There aren't that many 'k's in a Scrabble set." _Desperate, Mitchell_, he thought. _Desperate_.

"Board games are more fun if you cheat," Charlie said, leaning forward to make his point. "It adds uncertainty to the already heady linguistic challenge of Scrabble."

David was so busy appreciating the image of the heady linguistic challenge of Scrabble that he failed to notice the fact that Charlie was suddenly sat closer to him than he had done all night. If he moved an inch or two, their noses would probably smack together like two tennis balls, no, that's a terrible simile, like two nose-shaped things smacking together and making horrible crumpling sounds.

"Hello," David said, and then mentally kicked himself. _Hello? Really?_

"I do believe I won," Charlie growled.

"Yes, we do seem to have established that."

"We also seem to have established the fact that both of us are pretty shit at this whole thing," he edged closer, and David swallowed. "So how about we skip the neuroses and get right to the sex?"

"I rather like neuroses, thank you very much. But I am inclined to agree with you on the, er, sex front."

"I'm going to kiss you now."

David started to say "_oh_," but he was cut off before he got his voicebox to function properly by Charlie _actually_ kissing him. Really actually kissing him, and not even that imagined kissing that he'd thought about earlier. He knew it was real because he could feel Charlie's hand tight on the back of his neck, and he tasted like beer and really, this was a lot more pleasant than he'd thought it would be. There was a whole lot less noses smacking together, for a start, and Charlie was a lot rougher than women tended to be. David wondered vaguely whether that would translate into the bedroom, and he suddenly found himself with a whole lot less room in his trousers. He moaned into the kiss, and was gratified when Charlie tightened his hand and moaned back, a ragged, needy sound that went straight to David's groin.

And then they were on the floor, David pushed backwards and down, and Charlie was touching him everywhere as if he couldn't get enough contact and David was pushing his hands up Charlie's t-shirt and they were both bucking against each other like teenagers.

David bit Charlie's shoulder sharply, soliciting another of those delicious growls, and then Charlie was roughly unfastening his belt, and his hands were oh, oh, and then his trousers were roughly yanked down, leaving him feeling somewhat at a disadvantage.

He moved his hands down Charlie's chest, enjoying the shudders he left in his wake until he met denim, and the jarring cold of a belt buckle, which opened under his fingers. He skated past it and rubbed Charlie's cock through the denim.

"Blowjob," Charlie said in his ear. His breath was warm. "I," he inhaled sharply as David tugged open the jeans, "fuck. I won," he dropped his head down and it was David's turn to growl as he felt Charlie's teeth and tongue on his neck.

"We'll have to," David jerked his head sideways.

"Oh yeah." Charlie sat back on his knees, and David struggled to sit upright, pulling his legs from between Charlie's. He put a hand on Charlie's chest, and shoved, catching him off balance.

Charlie fell backwards, and David shifted position so that he was the one straddling. _It was all very mechanical, sex_, David thought, _jerky movements and everything_. He pulled Charlie's jeans down, looking him in the eye as he did. Taking hold of his cock, David bent down and licked, once, teasingly, watching as Charlie's head hit the floor with a painful-sounding _thunk_. He groaned something that sounded like _fuck_, and his fingers tangled roughly in David's hair. He pulled, sharply, and David obliged.

He would be more worried about his prowess with blowjobs, but the noises Charlie was making, and the insistent way he wrapped David's hair around his fingers sort of proved that he was doing alright, really, although sloppy enthusiasm wasn't really a substitute for good head. Points for enthusiasm, though, and all that, and _oh god, did you really just think 'good head'? Don't do that._

He licked from the base of Charlie's cock to the tip and pulled it all in again, making a sort of humming noise that he remembered liking once. It paid off, as Charlie's fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair and he bucked until David nearly gagged with the sensation.

Charlie came without much warning save for a deeper groan and something that sounded a bit like _sweet fucking jesus_ David, but that could have been a mixture of ego and lust speaking, so David concentrated on not choking as he swallowed. He was almost painfully aware of his own neglected erection, but he couldn't think of a tactful way to say _hey, I just sucked you off and now I would quite like to fuck you up the arse, would that be alright with you?_

"What?" Charlie's voice sounded somewhat indistinct.

_Fuck, did you just say that out loud?_ "Um." _No, not um, think of something!_ "Would you like a cup of something?"

"That's not what you said." _Shit. Fucking shitting bollocks._ "And no, I think there's a Scrabble tile stuck to my arse, so I'd like it if it wasn't. Plus I don't think I could quite muster the strength to lift a cup of coffee without pouring it all over my face, and even though second degree burns wouldn't really have much of an impact on _my_ face, I'd really rather not." He sat up, and leaned back on his hands. "But no, really, what did you say? Something about my arse, wasn't it?"

"It's a good arse," David mumbled. Deflection! Deflection was the key. He stood up abruptly. "Tea!" he announced.

"You're not going to go put your head in the fridge again, are you? Because I really would rather you didn't taste like old lettuce and chilliness next time I kiss you." He lifted a hand to his face, and pointedly made a wiping motion on the left side of his mouth. "You have, um."

_Next time_? "Oh. Oh right." David realised that yes, that was Charlie's come on the side of his mouth, and he rubbed it away, embarrassed. And with that realisation came the other one, that his mouth tasted like a salted rug the day after a week-long drinking session. Whatever _that_ tasted like. "I need to," he gestured towards the bathroom, and escaped gratefully when Charlie nodded in assent. He had to fasten his trousers up before he brushed his teeth and went two rounds with the mouthwash, and when he emerged he found that Charlie hadn't been so discerning, and he was in exactly the same position as when he'd left him.

"Your trousers are fastened up," he noted, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Uh yes, that's what happens when you have to walk somewhere."

"I was sort of hoping that you'd want to follow through with that surprising statement," Charlie tried to sound nonchalant, but he was failing on many points. "Even though I'm sure I've heard you ranting about the lack of benefits in using the human anus as a USB port..." he trailed off.

"Well yes, maybe, but in my defence, that was for Peep Show." David scratched his head, and sat down heavily on the floor. "I suppose we have to talk about this, then?"

"I don't see why we have to talk about it. We quite clearly fancy each other, if the Nether Scrabble is anything to go by. There was a blowjob. It was good. You would quite like to fuck me up the arse. _I_ would quite like _you_ to fuck me up the arse. I think we're both clear on all the major points, don't you?"

"When you put it that way, it's rather hard to argue."

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that. I'd hate to have to restrain you. Or actually... no, that's a lie, I'd really like that, actually." Charlie smirked. "I suppose now you're wondering how to initiate the entire thing, aren't you?"

"I might be."

"Just make it up as you go along. It usually seems to work."

"You know, I think I might just do that."


End file.
